Had to meet a client at Outback Steakhouse for a discussion over the drafting of a screenplay (can't say more than that about it- top secret, etc.) yesterday evening and while it was pleasant, I couldn't help but shake the suspicion that she'd mistaken me for a Bruce (An Aussie, eh?). The confusion is understandable but what really got me was-
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Do avoid asking Arthur for advice. If he invites you for dinner, decline.
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Really now? Can't say I've ever had his cooking... Is there something wrong with it?
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I didn't... even think you could call it "cooking."
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That bad? Really? Poor soul... well, I must admit, y'almost tempt me to try it actually. It's the daredevil in me, I'm afraid.
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Say... you look a bit familiar actually... I know I've seen y'somewhere before....
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Fuck if i know, I have no idea who you are
But I seem to attract retards so probably
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Apologies, mate. Name's John Paul.
Well now! You're certainly a character, sir.
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But yes! As it is, it seems she thought by m'accent that I'd enjoy some 'Aussie' cuisine....
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Though it was amusing watching a couple of eejits eat haggis then be ask what it was exactly, don't think I've seen somebody run so quickly to the loo when they found out and you don't even get proper haggis here since lungs are apparently not a proper source of meat or some sort of bull shit like that.
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